


Tomorrow There'll Be More Of Us...

by ItsOnlyCold



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: I'm Sorry, Lil' Phillip!, Non-Historically Accurate, Other, You'll cry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 03:18:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12572556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsOnlyCold/pseuds/ItsOnlyCold
Summary: Hey everyone! I know its been awhile since I last published or updated anything, but I do have this little short fic for you! I started college in August so its been really hard to sit down and just write something without other distractions. Its currently 11:43 PM here (I started at 11:13 PM) but I couldn't sleep so I was animatics on YouTube and this is where I ended up... It is based on several, and as always it isn't historically accurate! Hence why Phillip is able to walk and talk, whereas historically he was only a few months old at the time of John Laurens' death.Enjoy!





	Tomorrow There'll Be More Of Us...

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! I know its been awhile since I last published or updated anything, but I do have this little short fic for you! I started college in August so its been really hard to sit down and just write something without other distractions. Its currently 11:43 PM here (I started at 11:13 PM) but I couldn't sleep so I was animatics on YouTube and this is where I ended up... It is based on several, and as always it isn't historically accurate! Hence why Phillip is able to walk and talk, whereas historically he was only a few months old at the time of John Laurens' death. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Alexander looked up from reading to his son, his wife stood in the doorway as she looked at him. Even though they were several feet apart he could see the tears in her eyes, her lip was quivering and her hands were shaking as she gripped the piece of paper in her hand tightly. He got up quickly, going to her to make sure she was alright. “Is it your parents? Are one of them ill?” His words came out soft, trying not to wake up the sleeping boy who had fallen asleep not only five minutes before after his third story of the night.

“No… Alexander, its John Laurens. His father sent a letter to you, it just came.” Eliza says softly, bringing her husband into the hall before shutting the door so their son wouldn’t hear. 

“Is he coming to see us? They must have just gotten word about Britain surrendering to us.” Alexander says softly, a small smile playing on his lips. “I’ll run into town tomorrow and pick up some drinks and food.” In the back of his mind he knew, he knew that his best friend was not home from the war. 

Her eyes diverted to the ground, her lips trembling and her hands shaking harder than they had been minutes prior. “No… he won’t be coming back at all.” She says softly, looking at her husband’s face. “He was killed Alexander, in South Carolina.” 

A small sob threatened to escape Alexanders throat, but he swallowed hard and took the letter. He read about his best friend, who had so valiantly fought for their country even though the fighting was already finished, and how he had tried to save men from slavery. In his head, he could hear Laurens singing about how he was going to lead the first black battalion, and how he was going to end slavery so all men could be as free as Thomas Jefferson had said they are. When he heard his wife say his name, asking if he was alright, the only words that could leave his lips were “I have so much work to do,” before he disappeared into his study. 

He didn’t snap out of whatever daze he was until he slammed his fist into the wall, wincing in pain as a sliver of wood made its way into his skin. “Why John…” He says quietly, slowly sinking to the ground as he began sobbing. “I got to get ahold of Lafayette… and Hercules… God, do they even know?” He murmurs softly, shakily grabbing a pen and a pad of paper off his desk before he hurriedly wrote them letters. He sealed them shakily, looking up as he heard the door open. 

“Daddy?” A little voice asked, a small boy with a mop of curls on his head peaking his head through the door. “Is everything okay? I heard crying.” 

He looked up, his eyes meeting with his sons. “I’m fine Phillip… Daddy just lost someone very close to him.” He explains gently, not wanting to go too deep into the details with the young boy. Gently he pulls his son into his lap, holding him close as he threw the pen and papers to the side. 

Phillip nods, snuggling into his father. “I’m sorry daddy. But you know what they say at church, you’ll see your best friends in Heaven where you can play all day.” He says, not understanding the reality of death. 

Alexander smiles sadly, tousling his son’s hair gently as he pulls him close to his chest. “Yes, I know Phillip. I’ll see my friend again, but not for a very long time as you’re stuck with me for awhile.” He says gently 

“Good,” says the younger Hamilton as he drifts back off into dreamland. 

It was several minutes later, as Alexander looked outside the window in his office, that a shooting star shot by. Hamilton raises his hand as if he was holding a fake mug or glass of sorts, and if you listened closely you could almost hear two voices say “Tomorrow there’ll be more of us…” before silent sobs filled the room.


End file.
